


Like a Candle in the Wind

by Lothiriel84



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Episode Tag, Flash Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Van Pelt had a candle in her handbag, just in case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Candle in the Wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ruuger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruuger/gifts).



> Written for the Sugar and Spice Ficathon on LiveJournal.

Van Pelt had a candle in her handbag, just in case.

There had to be a way to snap Kristina out of her trance; she wasn’t dead, though Grace had a shrinking suspicion that she’d rather be. God only knew what horrible things Red John had done to the poor woman.

It was her fault. Kristina had told her she wanted to rest, that was true; but she was a cop, she should have known better than to leave her alone.

When she was finally seated across from Ms. Frye, the redhead couldn’t help a shiver from running down her spine as she met that thousand-yard stare. It took all her willpower to make some sort of eye contact and speak.

“How are you?”

The other woman didn’t stir; she looked more like a statue than a living being. Grace sighed and reached over the small table to touch her arm.

“I’m sorry. I was supposed to protect you, I should have...”

Her voice broke, and she struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. This wasn’t going to work; unless she tried something different.

Slowly she pulled the candle out of her bag. The scent of vanilla diffused in the air when she lit it, and she racked her brain to remember the exact words Jane had used on a previous occasion.

Now she regretted turning down her cousin’s invite to participate to one of her séances; Yolanda would have known how to do this, she was a psychic after all.

“I ask for the presence of the departed soul of Kristina Frye. Can you hear me?”

Once again a smile curled the other woman’s lips. Van Pelt couldn’t tell what she found more creepy; her previous unresponsiveness, or this mysterious smile.

“I can hear you.”

She took a deep breath. “I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. I failed you, and I’m never going to forgive myself for that.”

“Don’t be,” Kristina said softly. “Death is not the end. I am at peace now.”

“You’re not dead. Red John did this to you, and it’s all my fault.”

“Grace. Death is just another part of life. You don’t have to be sad.”

All of a sudden she couldn’t take any more of this; she stood abruptly and blew out the candle.

She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt the tears trickling down her cheeks.


End file.
